


don't ask, don't tell

by LightningInABottle



Series: BLUE LIPS [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bad Communication, Closeted Character, Dirty Talk, From Sex to Love, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Opening Up, Past Relationship(s), Phone Sex, Running from Feelings, Sexting, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Texting, Unofficial Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 20:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningInABottle/pseuds/LightningInABottle
Summary: They’ve been playing this game for long enough to know the rules: don’t ask, and don’t tell. But the urge to open up isn’t one so easily quelled, and it is only a matter of time before one of them slips up.If only the other was ready to listen, to ask, and to tell.





	don't ask, don't tell

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to don't ask, don't tell by Tove Lo to better understand this fic!  
> (And read the previous works for context)

Thomas Jefferson always had this habit of getting a little too invested in everything as a result of his curiosity. But even as he drew Hamilton close, wrapping him up in his arms, he couldn’t shake what had been on his mind from that night in the parking lot where Hamilton had kissed him. _I'm curious to know who you are,_ Thomas thought at Hamilton, who had nuzzled against his chest and was, for once, perfectly silent.

Of course, Thomas was aware that he already knew everything he needed to for this arrangement to work. _He knew what turned Hamilton on, turned him off._ It was a simple enough pattern: Hamilton liked to be the initiator, the one to tease and taunt. Until he finally made Thomas snap and pin him down, fuck him until Alex was moaning his name. _He knew they weren’t kids anymore._ Hamilton was no longer the hot-headed, scrappy, impulsive boy he had been when they first met as interns. _Knew they’d both been there before._ Hamilton was...experienced, but any time he got high and tried to talk about his past, Thomas brushed him off. Better to keep things physical.

He didn't care. He wasn’t jealous. He didn’t need to know.

 _But those butterflies scared Thomas to death._ From the second he opened his door in the evening, he was greeted by Hamilton’s cocky smirk. The little bastard didn’t even bother going to their usual club to pick Thomas up anymore. He could just show up, like he had been doing for the past few weeks. When their eyes met, Thomas could _feel them beating out of his chest._

“Make me come— _come_ so alive,” Thomas said, smiling to himself at the joke. Hamilton stepped closer, letting the door to Thomas’s apartment slam shut behind him. He stood on his toes and twined his arms around Thomas’s neck so that he could better lean up to plant little kisses on his jaw.

“And I’ll go with your moves through the night,” Hamilton responded, already sounding slightly buzzed. Thomas just pulled him closer, let them crash together like two sharpened diamonds attempting to scratch the other. This was the one high that was better than any drug.

_—shivering gold—I shiver in gold—_

* * *

 

The pillow talk was more dangerous, because without their desire and without their high, they were left with the versions of themselves that were actually true. Hamilton was sprawled across Thomas’s chest, chin pressing into his collarbone. This time, when he had shown up, Thomas could still see the tear tracks on his cheeks. It concerned Thomas, but it didn’t take a genius to tell that what Hamilton needed wasn’t pity. He didn’t need the prying questions of his worst enemy. Although they could be hardly considered enemies now, save for the occasional stapler-throwing argument at work.

“Look, about why I showed up...” Hamilton’s voice shook and he swallowed hard, as if trying to form words. “I haven’t been completely honest about why I approached you in the club. And all the days after that, I guess.” Hamilton’s heart was fluttering against his ribs like a caged bird. Thomas knew, with piercing certainty, that if he allowed this talk, allowed them to be _open_ with each other, that would only lead to more complications.

“Hey, you don’t need to be. We’ve both seen the world.” Thomas began slowly, as if taking care of a spooked animal. He needed to steer the conversation away from topics like this, topics that would lead to sympathy and empathy and all sorts of things he couldn’t let himself feel. Hamilton was just a drug-buddy and an enemy with benefits. Nothing more.

“Live and learn,” Hamilton snorted, tilting his head to look up at Thomas. “Look, I don’t know what you heard but—” Sure, there had been rumors about why Hamilton had withdrawn his normally overwhelming presence into the confines of his cubby-hole office. Ranging from a cancer diagnosis to a dead girlfriend, Thomas had heard it all. Which was why, based on the solemn look on Hamilton’s face, he made a split second decision and cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips.

“—But it can't be worse than I know. So maybe it’s better to just...not say anything.”

Realization dawned on Hamilton’s face and he fell silent. Neither of them spoke for a moment, too afraid of what words might bring. Thankfully, Hamilton had stopped trying to speak, instead choosing to push himself up off the mattress, not meeting Thomas’s eyes. _We've both seen the world._

“Yeah, sorry about that. It doesn’t matter.” But it was all so plain to see how much it _did._ Thomas shoved down the flash of pity resonating through him. “Maybe I should go,” Hamilton whispered, moving to stand up. _Live and learn._ Thomas caught his wrist before he could, and Hamilton turned around, startled.

“No, it’s fine. You can stay.” Thomas spoke with a soothing voice, trying to calm Hamilton. Because he knew that if Hamilton got worked up, he would bring his anxiousness to a club and take it out in some stranger’s bed. And the mere thought of that made nausea curl in his gut, despite the fact that he and Hamilton were most definitely not exclusive. _Don't know what you heard._ Hamilton’s eyes flashed with something like irritation.

“I’d really rather not,” he snapped, pulling away from Thomas’s hold on his arm. Thomas sighed, sitting up in bed as well. Hamilton stomped over to where his clothes were and started pulling on his shirt, each moment jerky and uneven. _But it, but it can't be worse than I know._

“And now you’re getting pissy with me.” Thomas rolled his eyes, torn between frustration and kindness—telling Hamilton to get the fuck out of his apartment or pulling him close and holding him tight. He didn’t sign up for these late night conversations, didn’t want the burden of dealing with Hamilton’s shit as well as his own. “Hey, how about we make a rule?” Hamilton paused trying to pull his shirt on, giving Thomas a suspicious look.

“Like what?”

Thomas stood up, stretching his arms above his head so that his spine popped. He walked over to Hamilton, easing the shirt off of him and guiding him back on the bed. Hamilton didn’t protest, but he didn’t follow Thomas with the usual eagerness. Thomas took a deep breath before he spoke, hoping that this would resolve the _weirdness_ between both of them.

“Baby, I just don't ask and you don't tell.” Thomas sat down on the edge of the mattress, motioning for Hamilton to do the same. “I already know you're fucked up,” he said, and was rewarded with a sharp laugh. Hamilton had relaxed a bit more but was still strangely guarded.

“I expected better insults from you,” Hamilton muttered, but Thomas kept talking, undeterred. He needed to convince Hamilton that this was the best course of action, needed to get away from the dangers of opening up. This wasn’t supposed to get this serious, but after two months of whatever the hell this was, it was becoming evident that they were more dependent on each other than on any drug.

“And it's cool with me,” Thomas finished, draping an arm around Hamilton’s shoulders and leaning in closer. He saw just the slightest flicker of hesitation in Hamilton’s eyes. Maybe this really was important. After all, something had made Hamilton completely retreat at work, turned him into a shell of his former self.

“My past—” Thomas interrupted Hamilton by pressing a quick kiss to his lips, smiling in reassurance. Their mouths brushed together with every word he spoke.

“Don’t ask and don't tell. No need to share too much.” Hamilton was nodding along. That was a good sign, right? “Come on, let it be.” There was a long pause, before Hamilton murmured something in agreement, kissed Thomas quickly, almost furiously, and left his apartment after hastily pulling on his clothes. Thomas did his best not to feel guilty, he really did. After all, letting Hamilton confide in him would only lead to more problems in the long run.

_—and baby—_

* * *

 

Hamilton didn’t show up, or even acknowledge Thomas, for six days after that. If it was anyone else that ghosted so completely, he might’ve been angry. But then, while Thomas was in the middle of editing an article that was so poorly written he was considering sending it back in for a total rewrite, his phone pinged.

 

_From: Booty-Call Gremlin_

_fuck I’m horny. been thinking about your stupid dick all day_

 

Of course that would be the first thing Hamilton said to him after a week of pure static. Thomas was most certainly not in a gracious enough mood to sext during work. Especially not after the debacle that had been their last hookup. Maybe Hamilton was unhealthy to be around. Damn, he definitely was. But as much as Thomas wanted to continue this, he knew that if he gave Hamilton even a little bit of attention, it would quickly grow out of their control.

 

_To: Booty-Call Gremlin_

_Too bad. Guess what I’m thinking about? W o r k_

 

There was a minute of pause before Hamilton’s next text arrived. Which, in texting time, was like an hour. Thomas did not imagine Hamilton chewing on his bottom lip in that strangely attractive way, trying to figure out what to type. Absolutely not. When the message finally pinged, Thomas had to acknowledge how absolutely fucked he was. How was it possible to be so infuriated and aroused by someone?

 

_From: Booty-Call Gremlin_

_how about we meet in the storage closet on the second floor and I work at sucking you off?_

 

Thomas spluttered, trying to draw air into his lungs and keep his phone from falling out of his hands at the same time. Who gave Hamilton the right to ignore him for a solid week and then pull this shit? But based on the twitch of interest from inside his pants, Thomas didn’t seem to mind much. He took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair before responding.

 

_To: Booty-Call Gremlin_

_What makes you think I’m even interested?_

 

Although Thomas knew that he was _very_ intrigued, especially after not seeing Hamilton for a while. He knew that the man was... _experienced, in more than one way._ But he needed to keep his composure if he didn’t want to give Hamilton the impression that Thomas was _easy._ However, the next text proved that staying cool would be difficult. Especially when his face was heating up.

 

_From: Booty-Call Gremlin_

_you can’t tell me you aren’t thinking about my lips around your cock. if you weren’t, you most certainly are now_

 

Damn it all to hell. Thomas was definitely getting hard now, just from imagining Hamilton looking up at him, eyes wide and lips stretched around him obscenely. Without his permission, his brain decided to replay the last time Hamilton had given him head. Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the feeling of wet heat and slick friction embedded in his mind. _Whatever he needed, Hamilton could give it to him._ But he needed to control himself, control his dick.

 

_To: Booty-Call Gremlin_

_I don’t have time for your fun and games. We’re at work_

 

Instead of typing something, Hamilton decided that driving Thomas insane with just his words wasn’t enough, he had to use his voice as well. Thomas’s phone rang, and he picked up the call without thinking, fumbling to put it off speaker. He was greeted with the intoxicating sound of Hamilton speaking, low and husky. Thomas had to strain to hear him, but what he was saying was unmistakable.

“That makes it all the more fun, doesn’t it? You would have to fight to stay quiet,” Hamilton murmured, and Thomas had to tighten his grip on the armrest of his swivel chair to keep from palming himself through his clothes at the suggestion. This was unfair, how desperate Hamilton made him, how he continued talking although both of them knew he had already won. “I can hear your choked off moans already, the way you would bite down on your knuckle as I take you into my mouth.”

Thomas was about one second away from actually moaning, but he was determined not to say anything. If this was really happening, he would make Hamilton _work_ for it. Especially after all the trouble he put Thomas through, getting angry when all Thomas was trying to do was avoid inconvenient attachments. But now Hamilton was only a few office doors away, _whispering dirty things that they liked,_ and Thomas simply couldn’t resist.

“You’ve always looked so good on your knees,” he hummed, finally letting his hand drift down between his legs. “But I think _you_ would be the one choking.” An unlikely event, but it was still hot to think about, Hamilton struggling to take all of him, throat fluttering and eyes watering with the effort. _The images got stuck on Thomas’s mind._ Instead of bragging about his sexual prowess like he normally would, Hamilton simply chuckled.

“Don’t you want to see me on my knees now?” He asked sweetly, and Thomas could _hear_ the smirk in his voice. “All you have to do is say yes and I’ll make you shiver in gold.” Instead of saying something embarrassing, Thomas simply rolled his eyes although Hamilton wasn’t there to see him. Leave it to Hamilton to make his weird metaphor sound alluring.

“You had better make it good for me.” he drawled, getting up from his chair and silently praying that no one would be in the hallways to notice him marching through the office building with a painfully obvious hard-on. Hamilton’s response was barely more than a purr, rich and seductive. Thomas couldn’t remember anyone else he’d met that had this same effect on him.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I want your cock so bad, Jefferson, _please._ ”

Hamilton’s voice cracked a little bit on the last word, and that tiny piece of desperation was what made Thomas lose any facade of control. Hearing Hamilton try to persuade him how good of a distraction his mouth could be was one thing, but hearing him beg— _actually beg_ —was something else entirely.

“Meet me in the storage closet. _Right now._ ” Thomas couldn’t remember a time when he had walked so fast, or with such a purpose. Hamilton was already leaning on the door when Thomas arrived, a smirk twisting his _fucking perfect_ lips. Thomas was so turned on he could hardly think, but he still managed to pull the door open and get both him and Hamilton inside the cramped space. But of course, the very second Hamilton dropped to his knees, looking up at Thomas like he was meant to be there, a whispered ‘ _I missed you’_ leaving him, Thomas’s phone rang.

After cursing in a way that would have made Samuel Jackson proud, Thomas picked up the call, vowing to murder whoever was on the other line.

“Tommy? You there?” Thomas laughed at the nickname, still too-aware of the fact that Hamilton was still breathing on his crotch. The man in question raised an eyebrow at him, and Thomas waved him off. The last thing he needed was to make eye contact with Hamilton while talking to his sister.

“Yeah, I’m kinda busy though, so if you could call me back that would be—” Thomas tried his best to speak in an even voice, but ended up sounding ridiculously shaky even to his own ears. He was cut off when Hamilton spoke, loud and abrasive and _shut the fuck up you dumbass that’s my sister._

“Are you gonna unzip your pants sometime this century?” Hamilton snapped, resulting in Thomas’s blood running cold and a confused yelp from Martha. _Oh no._ This was the worst day of his life, even worse than the time he broke his wrist falling off a fence and had to be rushed to the ER. Even worse than the day he almost got mugged in France. Having your not-really-enemy out you with a misplaced comment was officially the worst life experience.

“What, who’s that and why are they…” Martha trailed off, whatever she was calling to say immediately forgotten. Thomas was quick to try and salvage the situation, pulling Hamilton up and away from his boner, just in case he tried something, and doing his best manly-straight voice. Summoning up the demons of high school was not something Thomas had been wanting to do.

“Oh ignore that, it’s just my dumbass bro trying to embarrass me.” Thomas was trying his best to salvage the situation, he really was. _Not like this,_ he thought frantically. _Martha isn’t supposed to find out like this._ Hamilton shot him a bemused glare that Thomas ignored. “Why were you calling?” Martha sounded like she was about to protest, but changed her mind. Thank god.

“I was just going to invite you to come to Virginia for Thanksgiving, but I can always call back if now’s not a good time?” Martha, bless her heart, wasn’t going to say anything that would cause his soul to leave his body. Thomas’s eyes widened, his only thought being _oh shit my sister thinks I’m gay._ Well, he was, but that wasn’t the point.

“Yeah no no this is a _fantastic_ time. I am so glad you called because I was not busy at all.” Maybe Thomas was overdoing it, but years of having to sneak around in high school left that impact on someone. All but throwing the phone at Hamilton, he said, “Here’s my friend, Alex, say hi to him.” After a round of awkward greetings were exchanged and Thomas wanted to die even more if that were possible, Hamilton finally passed the phone back to him.

“Well, it was nice to meet Alex. Sorry for the misunderstanding, by the way, I’m totally gonna make fun of you for that when you show up. You are coming home, right?” Martha sounded so hopeful that Thomas smiles to himself, panic momentarily forgotten.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, hanging up the phone and collapsing against the wall of the closet. How...symbolically ironic. As soon as his gaze turned to Hamilton and he was reminded of the fact that they were here with a purpose, Thomas turned apologetic. “Fuck, Hamilton, sorry about that. I guess I haven’t told you—” Thomas was suddenly hit with deja vu. Hadn’t Hamilton said something like that to him?

— _we’ve both seen the world—live and learn—don’t know what you heard_ — _but it, but it can't be worse than I know—_

There was still a respectable amount of distance between them, one that neither of them moved to close. What was someone supposed to say when they found out their fuckbuddy was closeted? There really wasn’t a rulebook on this sort of thing. Not that they would follow it anyway. Thomas was ready to open his mouth, to try and explain the fear of being discovered in a place where gay was synonymous with disgusting, being terrified of making the slightest mistake in how he presented himself. Being terrified of losing his family.

— _we’ve both seen the world—live and learn—don’t know what you heard_ — _but it, but it can't be worse than I know—_

But then Hamilton turned his own words back at him, his eyes piercing even through the dim light of the room.

“Remember that rule of yours?” He paused for Thomas to nod before continuing. “Then baby, I don't ask, and you don't tell. Already know you're fucked up. And that’s cool with me.

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh, something in his chest becoming lighter when he realized that Hamilton wasn’t as angry about it anymore. He probably came to the same conclusion as Thomas, that is was better to create some distance. Thomas couldn’t stop his little protest. Was this what Hamilton felt when he tried to open up to Thomas a week ago? The need to be close, to connect, to have someone understand? Thomas felt that now.

“My past—” he began, but Hamilton cut him off with a finger on Thomas’s lips, stepping forward to do so.

“Just don’t ask and don’t tell. There’s no need to share too much. Right?” Hamilton didn’t waver, quoting Thomas like it was the easiest thing in the world. Thomas tried his best to pretend that he didn’t feel a stone drop in his gut at the words. Was it such a crime to want to talk to Hamilton?

“I guess so,” Thomas said, still aware of the fact that the space between them had grown considerably diminished the more Hamilton leaned in. Before he knew it, they were kissing, Hamilton’s mouth a welcome distraction. Thomas could forget like this, forget all the stress Martha’s call had placed upon him. He just needed to say yes. When Hamilton pulled away, he was grinning.

“Come on, let it be.” With that, Hamilton sank back onto his knees with a wink, fingers finding their way to Thomas’s zipper. “Now, what were we doing here again?” Thomas licked his lips as he stared down at Hamilton pulling his pants down just enough.

“You might have to refresh my memory,” he teased, anticipation building in him with every second. Talking was overrated anyway. _This_ was much better. At least that’s what Thomas told himself.

— _and baby—_

* * *

 

Their argument had been resolved. As Thanksgiving grew closer and closer, Thomas had been opening the door to Hamilton more often. The drugs were good, helping him forget the fact that he would soon have to choose between playing a part for a week or disappointing his family by not coming down to Virginia. And Hamilton’s body was a great distraction from, well, the fact that each day, Thomas had been wanting for him to stay even longer in his apartment.

They were laying in bed together when it happened. Thomas, stroking Hamilton’s upper back absentmindedly while Hamilton played with his curls, tugging on a ringlet and watching it bounce back. Thomas couldn’t stop thinking about their fight, how neither of them had acknowledged when their _thing_ had become a little more than physical.

“Look, Hamilton, there’s nothing I don't wanna know,” he tried to say awkwardly, the half-apology coming out strained. Hamilton shifted so that he could make eye contact with Thomas, raising his eyebrow.

“Yeah?” It wasn’t an invitation to keep talking, but it wasn’t a total shutdown either. Thomas took a deep breath before continuing, trying not to feel like he was hopelessly out of his depth. He had to try to explain, to justify why he didn’t want to talk about anything without betraying the real reason.

“I just don't believe in lies.” Hamilton’s face twisted with the beginnings of irritation that Thomas tried his best to calm by cradling his cheek gently. “Baby, we're so good together, so does it matter what we hide?” Hamilton paused for a second, considering, before pressing a kiss to Thomas’s palm and pulling himself close so that they were completely intertwined, the afternoon light falling on them in stripes from the lowered blinds.

“And baby, don't ask, then don't tell,” he said slowly, measuring out Thomas’s reaction. Thomas simply nodded along as Hamilton pressed lazy kisses to his neck, his collarbone, his chest.

“I already know you're fucked up, and it's cool with me.” Thomas’s heart fluttered when Hamilton laughed at that, pulling away just enough to brush his lips against Thomas’s. If Thomas tried, he could taste the weed still on his lips like at aftertaste of emotions.

“My past—” Hamilton tried to say, no real protest behind the words, but Thomas interrupted him, like he usually did when such a subject came up.

“Just don't ask and don't tell. No need to share too much.” Thomas was half-afraid that Hamilton would get angry again, pull away, and leave. He felt inexplicably sad at such a thought. But instead of doing any of that, Hamilton just smiled, no trace of mockery behind the gesture.

“Come on, let it be.” Hamilton kissed him again, slow and dirty, licking into Thomas’s mouth without a care in the world. Until Hamilton, Thomas never saw the appeal of morning sex. But now he had to admit, there was something entrancing about touching each other when the defenses normally set up were eroded by sleep.

— _and baby_ —

“Don't ask, then don't tell,” Thomas murmured against Hamilton’s lips, chuckling when Hamilton turned his own insult against him.

“Already know you're fucked up and it's cool with me.” Just for the sake of continuing their little game of rehashing conversations they’d had days before, Thomas broke away enough just to say two words, not nearly enough conviction behind them to be believable.

“My past—” Thomas hummed in contentment when Hamilton sucked lightly on his bottom lip, sweetly, with just a grace of teeth. Fuck, Thomas just wanted to stay here with him forever, losing themselves in each other’s bodies.

“And don’t ask and don't tell need to share too much.” Hamilton kept trying to get closer, swinging his leg up on Thomas’s waist to be able to press them almost fully against each other.

“Come on, let it be.” Thomas fell back against his back and pulled Hamilton onto him, grinning at the friction. This was good, great, fantastic. Nobody needed to ask and nobody needed to tell and _nobody needed to catch feelings._ That’s what kissing was for, to push away all of your emotions until only desire remained. Thomas didn’t need anything but this. At least, that’s what he told himself.

— _and baby—_

**Author's Note:**

> Our boys try to communicate and fail epically and also sexting: a story  
> As usual, thank you to swanofthelake for being my beta reader! Love you, darling <3  
> I really hope this was as fun for y'all to read as it was for me to write! Please leave a comment and tell me what you think  
> Thank you for reading and have a very Happy New Year!


End file.
